
lnHtemorij of 




Class CT ?J 1 5 

Book.___ 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



In Memory of 

$lrs, jFretjertck M. <^otitjarD 

By Her Husband 



The Lotus Press 
1905 






JjUBRARYof 50NQ8ESS 

AUG 7 1905 

} uuss /9 XXS. wot I 
f /2 * £*. £> | 

A OOPY 6. f 



Copyright, 1905 

by 

The Lotus Press, New York 




AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN 




AS YOUNG WIFE AND MOTHER 




I 



AT THE AGE OF TWZNTY-FOUR 










FROM A FAMILY GROUP 
TAKEN IN 1903 



iW 



ioas bom at Marren, l&tioOe island, in 
1836* J?er maiden name toasilpdtalflane 
gpatfon. S>tje toas graduated at ;Spt* t^otyofee Seminar? 
toitti tbe ciasf^ of 1857, married in I860, and passed 
ttje most of tier subsequent life in #ett> J^ork Ctt^ 

<L31n tije earlp spring of 1904 slje began to suffer 
from bisceral troubles (gall stones), and alttjougti all 
toas done for fytt tbat affection and medical skill could 
suggest, tjer illness increased until tier ptjpsicians 
urged an operation as ttje onty means of sabing \)tx 
lift. S>tje entered ^almemann hospital, j^eto J^orfc, 
on tlje second of October, tob^re ttje operation toas 
performed bp ttoo competent surgeons* ©be bore Ijer 
sufferings toitti cheerful resignation, and far a time 
strong tjopes toere entertained of Ijer recoberp, but 
st)e gradually greto toeafcer and passed auia^ on tbe 
ttoeut^ntntb of jfiobember, 1904. 



C^rs* d5obbarb possesses a rare combination of 
sterling ant) attractive qualities* H?er strong minn 
mas toell store** tjer fubgment excellent* tier tii& 
portion most amiable* Stye toas generous ana 
unselfitsb — tjappier in bestofcoing tljan in receiving 
benefits* £>\)t fcoas reltneb in eberp tbougljt an& beeb 
but broabl^ tolerant to all things sabe bice an& 
impurity 

C31f tbere toas a feint suggestion of reserbe m \)tt 
quiet anb toinning manner* one felt ttjat beneattjit 
toas untolb toealtb of goodness anb affection* &>\)t 
preferreb a feto fcoell cbosen frienbs to social bi&tint* 
tiou anb to tbese stie openeb t)er beart* %>\)t ijau reab 
anb trabelleb mucty* ®o be in close companionsljtp 
ttutf) \)tt cheerful baity life toas an education* 

Htytt family Discipline teas base* on gentle influx 
tntt ; tbere fcoas neber seberit£ or threat of punish 
ment* §>tje sato clearly anb fubgeb mi#t\y> anb ber 
boice* m\)it\) toas altoays loin anb sfcoect* possessed a 
certain magnetism toljicb stilleb all controbersp anb 
ntabe \)tt ligbtest request paramount lata to tytt 
cbilbren* &nb it i^ a pleasant ttjougbt to tbe bu^ 
banb anb ftbe sons tobo cberisl; \)tt memory* tbat 



perijap* stye tan &tt anD tmoto tljat ail tier laat 
expresses totefie* tjafoe been s&cre&lp fulfilled 

HWt tjatoe place* ttje asbes of tbis toife an* mottjrr, 
toitl) tt)O0e of tjer Uaugtjter ^eneljte^in tbe seclu&efc 
cemetery of an elm^aDefc #eto Cnglano toton, on 
ttje sbore of 3loug 31slanfc g>oun&* (&(}«* ma^ t\)ty 
fbreber ^leep^ close to nature, toijile ttie quiet stars 
beep mgtjtii? tiigti otoer ttyem, anfc tbe toin&s ana t^e 
toabes blen& tbeir boices in requiem for tier pure 
ant) beautiful souL 




-TM^EFORE Mrs. Goddard was 
yR ^ seriously ill, her husband had 
^^P a volume in preparation for 
the press, of which she was the in- 
spiration and lenient critic. It is 
now laid aside and will never be 
completed for publication. But as 
she in a measure collaborated in the 
work, the following extracts from 
some of its chapters in manuscript 
may interest her friends; and more 
especially, because she approved and 
shared the sentiments they express 
in regard to the great mystery of life. 



%t Cfjree g>core an* Cen 

CICERO was sixty-three years old when he 
began to write his essay on old age, and he 
says the pleasure of writing it made him for- 
get his own infirmities. "There is no need for me 
to speak about myself," he writes, "and yet, that is 
the privilege of old age, and conceded to my time of 
life." Under such high authority I may venture to 
refer to the fact that to-day, my birthday, I have 
rounded up seventy years of life. 
^ Three score years and ten ! It is a break with the 
past, a change in the face of life, the epoch of intro- 
spection. Now one enters the vestibule of an un- 
known temple, and it stirs the imagination. 
^ If one opens the door to his thoughts, they will 
throng upon him on his seventieth birthday. He was 
young but yesterday, and all unawares, age has 
stolen upon him. Where have the years gone, and 
what real possessions has he acquired during this 
span of life? He knows in his heart that the much 



8 gl 3Efjree g>core anb 3Een 

or little wealth he has accumulated beyond his needs 
is a paltry asset. Is the talent entrusted to him still 
hid in the napkin? Has he neglected his opportuni- 
ties, and evaded his responsibilities ? At this meeting 
point between the past and the future, more than at 
any other period in life, such questions press for 
judgment before the tribunal of one's own mind and 
conscience. 

^ Life may still be pleasant to a person at seventy, 
but what of the gray to-morrows, under the increas- 
ing infirmities time will surely bring ? 
€f In seeking a common ground on which all could 
agree in regard to the query — "Is life worth living?" 
a distinguished modern philosopher finds the pessimist 
to condemn life because it results in more pain than 
pleasure, while the optimist defends it in the belief 
that it brings more pleasure than pain. And he con- 
cludes that "The implication common to both views 
is, that conduct should conduce to the preservation of 
the individual, of the family, or of society, only sup- 
posing that life brings more happiness than misery." 



&t ^fjree g>core anb Wtn 



flThis doctrine seems very similar to that of the 
ancient Epicureans, who made pleasure the sole 
good, and pain the sole evil. Yet the Stoics were 
really the happier, because they found a settled 
serenity of soul in being independent of the ills of 
life. If, however, we may take Mr. Spencer's con- 
clusion to be logically and ethically correct in regard 
to life as a whole, it should apply with increased 
force to that part of it which is least pleasant and 
desirable — old age. Why, then, should we cherish 
the vital spark, amid the ashes of a dull, useless, pain- 
ful and hopeless senescence ? 

^ It is because, standing reverent before the inscrut- 
able mystery of existence, the heart of man refuses 
to value life merely as the difference between its pains 
and its pleasures. It recognizes with Kant that "The 
moral law is the one clear law of the Absolute," and 
is fain to believe that life and its responsibilities have 
a profound spiritual meaning. In this view, it is surely 
ours to await the call of that Power whose purpose 
is beyond finite conception. 



&t tEfjree £§>core anb Ktu 



(^ Epictetus spoke of the "always open door" as an 
optional exit from troubled life; yet even he, the 
Stoic, who did not profess to accept belief in exist- 
ence hereafter, counseled waiting patiently at the 
post assigned, until called in by the Great Com- 
mander. 

€} There are, no doubt, some tired souls who wel- 
come old age as a period of respite and rest, but I 
think that with the most of us it is painful to realize 
that we have reached the evening of life, and must 
henceforth resign ourselves to becoming idle specta- 
tors of others' lives and fortunes. 
^ Amiel found it "harder to grow old than to die;" 
that to bear with decay and accept one's lessening 
capacity is a rarer and more trying virtue than to 
face death. 

^ We love the game of life and retire from it with 
many a wistful retrospect. The quick thrill of the 
blood of earlier days has gone and "The enchanted 
herbs that did renew old ^Eson" can never restore 
it, even with all Medea's wondrous alchemy. But 



gt QEfiree H>core anb 3Een n 

it is part of the business of life to bear its ills patiently, 
and to leave it with graceful resignation. It is best 
to curb a too vivid imagination, and accept the in- 
evitable as serenely as the raindrop falls into the 
ocean. 

^ A peaceful and cheerful decline into old age is a 
triumphal consummation. It is the after glow or 
Indian summer of a well-ordered life. It may happily 
come to one who has been careful to preserve health, 
and who, surrounded by sheltering influences and 
sympathetic care, can look back upon an honorable, 
self-denying and useful career, crowned with the 
love, respect and gratitude of those about him. And 
it is the more admirable when such an one can grate- 
fully accept this harvest, but stands ready to resign 
it, if such be the decree of the Power that gives life 
and takes it away. 



fnftntte f ntelltgence 

^ft F two plants grow side by side, one may be 
%M healthful and nourishing, the other poisonous. 
^^? Whatever may be the soil around the roots, 
each will extract only those elements intended to its 
own specific organization, preserving its own form 
leaf, blossom and fragrance. Each will produce its 
own seeds and impart to them the power of reproduc- 
tion. The vital forces involved can operate only in 
certain modes and directions. Its growth, shape, 
product, every function or attribute, are all prescribed. 
€J Such sequent happenings in the chaotic realm of 
the accidental are inconceivable. And when phe- 
nomena equally inscrutable confront us on every hand, 
we are forced to admit, with Lord Kelvin, that the 
evidence that design, and not the blind energy of 
chance, rules the universe, "is as infinity to one." 
% The stellar system to which we belong is in shape 
ovate. Looking across its sides, the glass reveals 
other families of suns, and yet others until, far out in 



infinite intelligence 



the deeps of space, nebulous clouds appear, which 

a higher telescopic power resolves into stellar systems ; 

and still beyond, similar clouds are seen, so remote 

as to defy analysis. 

€J It requires four thousand years for the light of a 

star of the twelfth magnitude to reach the earth, but 

the farthest reach of the aided eye reveals no star in 

the so-called "dark tubes" of Herschel; yet under 

the camera, the light which left invisible suns ages 

ago, spatters the sensitive film with the record that 

they are, or were, shining somewhere in boundless 

space. When in their swift flight, two orbs clash, 

they dissipate as nebulous matter, while elsewhere in 

the universe, vortices in such luminous mists, or in 

the mysterious ether, mark the birth of new suns. 

Such is the majestic sweep and rhythm of the skies 

at the hand of Him who wound up and set their 

wondrous clockwork. 

" Above the clouds and tempest's rage, 
Across yon blue and radiant arch, 
Upon their long high pilgrimage, 

I watched their glittering armies march." 



Hlttftmte intelligence 



^ The boundaries of human reason are narrow, but 
we may be permitted even the daring conjecture that 
infinite space is studded with an infinite number of 
suns and worlds, and that throughout the universe, 
as light undulates in space, life pulsates in time. 
f| Science has reached the conclusion that matter 
and force are eternal; and it would seem that every 
cognitive faculty of mind, sense and intuition attests 
the existence of an Eternal Directing Intelligence. It 
is to many of us, the one star that shines clear, above 
that rhythm of happiness and sorrow which we call 
life. 

" God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear ; 
the rest may reason and welcome." 



fmmortalttp 




ELIEF in the immortality of the soul is a 
corollary of the doctrine that there is a 
moral order in the universe, and it is, out 
of question, the best working basis for humanity under 
present conditions. "You will get much less from 
a humanity, which does not believe in the human im- 
mortality of the soul, than from one which does 
believe," said Renan. 

^ If man becomes persuaded that, after a short and 
uncertain term of years on the stage of this world 
he passes into utter oblivion, a powerful restraining 
influence and a strong incentive to aspiration and 
endeavor will be lost. He will contract his purposes 
as he fancies his existence circumscribed. 
^ The instinct of survival in some form hereafter is 
one of the most profound intuitions of the human race. 
The Indian believes that in the land of the Great 
Spirit his dog and gun shall bear him company; and 



16 immortality 

many of the most illustrious men whose names adorn 
early history, have testified to their faith in the im- 
mortality of the soul. 

€J Socrates tranquilly drank the poison that was to 
transport him to the company of the gods; and 
Cicero writes: "If I am wrong in this, that I believe 
the souls of men to be immortal, I willingly delude 
myself. Nor do I desire that the mistake, in which 
I take pleasure, should be wrested from me as long 
as I live. But if I, when dead, shall have no con- 
sciousness, as some narrow-minded philosophers 
imagine, I do not fear lest dead philosophers should 
ridicule this my delusion." 

^ The Christian world finds in the promises of the 
Master sufficient warrant for its strong and abiding 
faith in a future life. Trust in the assurances of that 
Exalted Being has brought consolation to countless 
millions. It has inspired humanity to virtue and well 
doing; restrained it from vice and crime, and sus- 
tained it under poverty, suffering and bereavement, 
while holding out the cheering hope of compensation 



Smmortalttp 



in the life to come, for all the pain and misery en- 
dured on earth. 

^ Science has conferred immeasurable benefits upon 
the world. Its mission is to observe and prove. It 
therefore objects to the assumption of any principle 
which will not bear demonstration. In search of 
absolute truth it explores many mysteries but to find 
greater mysteries beyond. Its path ever leads to the 
insoluble. 

€J Many distinguished votaries of science accept 
neither miracle nor dogma and declare that its prog- 
ress during the nineteenth century has rendered un- 
tenable the idea of eternal life. They find no 
evidence that force can manifest itself except upon or 
through matter, or that, at the dissolution of the body, 
its substance and energy do not return to their pri- 
mordial condition, leaving no trace of any psycho- 
plasm or material to serve as the garment for a 
potential soul. 

^ But that spirit and its attributes continue to exist 
in some concrete form we must believe. The forces 



3Jmmortalttp 



of nature are no more visible or explicable than 
spirit. The existence of an Infinite Overruling 
Spirit is proclaimed in the excess of beauty in nature 
and countless other manifestations of design, as surely 
as the phenomena of gravity, electricity or chemical 
affinity reveal their existence. 

^ In his "First Principles," Herbert Spencer ob- 
serves that, "While our consciousness of Nature 
under one aspect constitutes science, our conscious- 
ness of it under the other aspect constitutes religion." 
And Kant declared that the immortality of the soul 
is not an object of pure reason, but a postulate of 
practical reason. 

^ Science and religion have therefore not only dif- 
ferent functions, but also different methods of rea- 
soning. Science makes its final deductions from 
premises it has established by induction from facts 
and principles which it has proved. Religion formu- 
lates its scheme of things by deduction, from premises 
which science fails in part to verify. 
^ Religion maintains that the domain of science is 



Smmortalttp 



limited and apart from the realm of the Eternal Ideal, 
to which it can no more rise than arithmetic can 
measure the finer sentiments, such as love and grati- 
tude. It believes that the Deity who can create and 
control can also perpetuate life. It insists that the 
shell must be held to the ear of the heart, so full of 
spiritual intuitions and aspirations, if one would hear 
the certain promise of immortality. 
^ It is not unreasonable to believe that the assurance 
of personal immortality has been withheld from mere 
mathematical reasoning, as part of the discipline of 
life, and reserved to higher faculties. In this view, 
the exact methods of pure science can never rise to 
its demonstration. 

^ In his late work, "Individualism," N. S. Shaler, 
Professor of Geology at Harvard University, has 
this to say: "A number of men of no mean authority 
as naturalists, some of them well trained in experi- 
mental science, have, after long and careful inquiry, 
become convinced that there is evidence of the sur- 
vival of some minds after death." And again: "We 



20 SmmortaUtp 

may fairly conjecture that we may be on the verge 
of something like a demonstration, that the individual 
soul does survive the death of the body by which 
it was nurtured." 

^ Modern spiritualism is a beautiful faith were it 
only true. We may at least agree with its disciples 
that no other doctrine can so directly minister to the 
bereaved human heart. No other can vie with its 
proffer of visible and tangible tokens that love outlasts 
death, and that the separation which death inflicts is 
not utter and irreparable. 

^ There are some who have a haunting fear lest they 
may be "bound to the wheel," and must carry to 
another life the burdens of this, or that the countless 
ages of eternity prove insufferably monotonous and 
wearisome. And sometimes in the dusk of life, when 
the day seems to have been very long, and the instinct 
of life grows feeble, the tired lingerer is willing to 
forego immortality and welcome the rest and peace 
of an eternal and dreamless sleep. 
€J These lines, written by Mrs. Huxley, were placed 



3Jfflfflortalttp 2^ 

upon the tombstone of the scientist, at his own 

request : 

" And if there be no meeting past the grave, 
If all is darkness, silence, yet 'tis rest ; 
Be not afraid, ye waiting hearts that weep, 
For God still giveth his beloved sleep ; 
And if an endless sleep he wills — so best." 

^ But if the power of bringing into existence be con- 
ceded to the Supreme Being, we may certainly be- 
lieve He can prolong it according to His Will. 
^ The probably glorious existence yonder can no 
more be projected from mortal conditions than a 
life germ in the egg can foresee that it will become a 
soaring eagle or a brilliant bird of Paradise — no more 
than the sluggish caterpillar can foretell that it will 
cast off its repulsive exuviae and be transformed into 
a many-hued butterfly, sporting in the sunshine. 
^ In each block of marble lies hidden every ideal 
form that has haunted the dreams of poet or sculptor, 
awaiting but the touch of some inspired hand to be 
set free from the matter which conceals it. And may 
it not likewise be, that when the Master Sculptor 



22 Smmortalttp 

brushes aside from the immortal spark the material 
body which smothers and betrays it with passions, 
desires, appetites, with greed for gold and lust of 
power, it will become forever radiant in all its finer 
and nobler attributes? 

^ Exact and eternal justice is believed to be the 
pivotal law of the universe. And among the most 
convincing evidences of a future life is the fact that 
so many human beings toil, suffer and die under con- 
ditions which are hopelessly unjust, unless somewhere 
and somehow, compensation is to come, and every 
wrong righted. 

" There never lived a virtue unrewarded, 
Nor died a vice without its meed of woe." 

^ The interesting theory of pre-existence and after- 
existence finds much favor with the poets. It claims 
that the child is not created ; its soul is as old as the 
soul of its parents. Its character has been formed in 
its former lives and is attracted for its birth here to 
its own kind. 



Ummortaiitp 2} 

(I Man will ever be what he makes himself ; his 
virtues and his sins are his own; he is the concrete 
manifestation of his own past and he cannot evade 
his responsibility. 

€J Death cannot destroy him. No prayer, no medi- 
ation, no ceremony, no form of faith can save him. 
In store for him is "Justice to the finest degree, as 
exact as arithmetic — as the movement of the stars — 
as the order of the universe." It is urged that this 
theory establishes the freedom of the will, account- 
ability, and the moral order. 

" Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting ; 
The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 
Hath elsewhere had its setting 
And cometh from afar." 

— Wordsworth. 

" We only feel that we have ever been 
And ever more shall be." 

— Whittier. 

" As to you Life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths ; 
No doubt I have died ten thousand times before." 

—Walt Whitman. 



24 3FmmortaUtp 

" Or ever the Knightly years were gone 
With the old world to the grave, 
I was a king in Babylon 

And you were a Christian slave." 

—W. E. Henley. 

Says Dr. Henry Moore : 

"And as this hypothesis (pre-existence) is rational in 
itself, so has it also gained the suffrage of all philosophers of all 
ages, of any note, that have held the soul of man incorporeal 
and immortal." Tennyson, Browning, Southey, Victor Hugo 
and many other poets bear testimony to their belief in the 
theory of pre-existence. 

^ No two persons see and feel and think alike. Two 
artists, for example, sit side by side upon the shore 
to paint the ocean in a storm. The picture of one 
makes you feel the fury of the wind and the waves; 
that of the other, the strength of the cliff that resists 
them. Temperament, disposition, mental charac- 
teristics vary. Hence all cannot have the same re- 
ligious views. Happily, it is an age of tolerance and 
freedom of opinion. Happily also, the creeds of 
our fathers are casting out their terrors and drawing 



31mmortaUtp 25 

nearer to the real teachings of the gentle and be- 
nignant Master. 

C| That religion must be good, "which renders for- 
giveness more easy, fortune less arrogant, duty more 
dear, the beyond less visionary.'* 
€J Man's conception of God is really a reflex of his 
own mental attitude. Cruel and superstitious peoples 
have stern and cruel gods, and in proportion as they 
grow enlightened and humane, their deities become 
kind and merciful. 

^ In the time to come, little more may be proclaimed 
from the pulpit than the gospel of well-doing, peace, 
love and trust. There will be fewer admonitions to 
"fear God," to become a "God-fearing people," 
when we shall not forget that "Perfect Love casteth 
out fear." 

^ It is incredible that man's career is circumscribed 
to this little orb, when his eye and imagination can 
penetrate the boundless deeps of space. Is it given 
him to know the past, but nothing of the ripened 
harvest of the future for which he has sown the seed ? 



26 Smmortalttp 

Is a noble character doomed to perish utterly? Are 
the eyes of Washington and Lincoln forever closed 
to the welfare of the country they loved and served 
so well? Shall all human ties be so harshly broken 
and forever sundered, and those we love become but 
fading memories? 

€J It cannot be, unless the human soul is merely a 
product of the mass of atoms to which it is tethered. 
It cannot be, unless the loftiest reason, every prophetic 
instinct of the heart, and every immortal longing 
which lies too deep for any form of expression is a 
mockery. It cannot be, unless life is an empty and 
aimless dream. 



A brilliant sceptic of our time had his own 
intimations of immortality, when he said: "In the 
night of death hope sees a star, and love hears the 
rustle of a wing." 



%ty passing 

" A hundred years from now, dear heart, 
We will not mind the pain, 
The throbbing, crimson tide of life 
Will not have left a stain. 
The song we sing together, dear, 
The dream we dream together here, 
Will mean no more than means a tear 
Amid a summer rain." 

^W^O die is the common destiny. Unnumbered 
II . millions have gone before and countless mil- 
^■■^ lions will follow. It is the one certain issue 
of physical life, the inevitable consequent of birth. 
Yet the ever-haunting dread of this natural event causes 
a hundredfold more mental suffering than any other 
sentiment which afflicts mankind. 
f| "Cowards die many times," for it is written that 
he who fears he shall suffer, already suffers that which 
he fears. The excessive dread of paying this natural 
debt is more to be feared than death itself. It is a 
morbid mental infirmity; the fruit of a narrow view 
of life and its meaning, which should be cast out. It 



28 tEfle gagging 

was a dictum of Plato, that a man who is good for 
anything is neither afraid of living nor of dying. 
^ It was a custom with certain Pagan nations for 
friends to attire themselves in mourning when a child 
was born, and festive garments when a life ended. 
And if death be the passport to a glorious immortality, 
as we in this Christian land are taught, and profess 
to believe, the tolling funeral bell should ring a 
joyous march. That faith and trust in the assurance 
of felicity hereafter cannot be strong and vital, which 
crowns death as the " King of Terrors." 
^ It is natural and fitting that we pay tribute in 
sorrow and tears to the memory of a beloved one who 
has gone from us. Even the Master wept at the 
tomb of Lazarus. 

" Some pious drops the closing eye requires." 

^ But if we may believe the death of a friend to be 
his greater "gain," is not excessive grief over our 
own personal " loss " selfish and unworthy ? 
€J Death either opens to us the gates of Paradise, or 



GTfje passing 29 

it leads to the imperturbable peace of eternal sleep. 
And when humanity can learn to anticipate it with 
fearless serenity, and approach it with dignity and 
composure, it will be a noble triumph of reason. 
Death will then have lost its chiefest sting, and the 
world be happier, in the passing of a great and 
gloomy shadow from the face of life. 
^ Very many physicians have testified that actual 
death is not ordinarily attended by any considerable 
degree of physical suffering, and that its near ap- 
proach is seldom accompanied by the terrors usually 
associated with it. 

t| "Take away but the pomps of death," says Jeremy 
Taylor, "the disguises and solemn bugbears, the 
fantastic ceremonies, the swoonings and shriekings, 
the nurses and physicians, the dark room and the 
ministers, the kindred and the watchers, and then to 
die is easy." 

^ And again Plato : "The death that comes to us — 
old age conducting us to it — is of all others the most 
easy and in some sort delightful." And Seneca: "I 



30 gfte gagging 

have often thought upon death and I find it the least 
of all evils. The expectation brings terror and that 
exceeds the evil." And Montaigne: "God is favor- 
able to those whom he makes to die by degrees; the 
last death will be so much the less painful." And 
Taine: "We cannot stay and we do not wish to 
stay amid the ruins." 

€][ "Death," said Colton, "is the Liberator of him 
whom freedom cannot release, the Physician of him 
whom medicine cannot cure, and the Comforter of 
him whom Time cannot console." 

" So be my passing — 
My task accomplished and the long day done ; 
My wages taken, and in my heart 
Some late lark singing, 
Let me be gathered in the quiet West, 
The sundown splendid and serene death." 



C£e 3Ust Offices of Affection 

3T is a thoughtful and benevolent consideration 
for others, to enjoin upon friends the duty of 
performing the last offices of affection in such 
manner that death shall not entail physical injury to 
survivors, and, so far as possible, leave delicate and 
pleasing thoughts of one's self. It is, in fact, the 
final measure of altruism. 

^ Physicians positively assert that the prevailing cus- 
tom of Earth burial is insanitary, productive of danger 
to the living, and a constant menace to future gen- 
erations. Millions of her former citizens lie buried 
in large areas — storage places for the dead — within 
the populous limits of New York City. Similar con- 
ditions exist in other cities throughout the civilized 
world, while many cases of untimely disease and 
death follow the use of water from wells located near 
country burial grounds. 
€J Time decomposes by slow combustion ; cremation 



32 ®j?e Hast (Biiittti of Affection 

by swift combustion, and without the unpleasant 
accessories of the former. 

Cjf Unless in its comparative novelty, there is no 
greater shock to the feelings at a cremation funeral 
than at the usual obsequies. The writer has attended 
several, and in no case did the rites seem to him less 
solemn, impressive and tender. Nature but receives 
her own again through the reverently administered 
agency of purifying fire. 

^ A recent issue of the London Chronicle contains 
the following: "It will be surprising if the remarkable 
weight and number of names practically subscribed 
to the cause of cremation within the past few months 
— names like those of Spencer, Edwin Arnold, Leslie 
Stephen, Watts, Henley and Antoinette Sterling — 
are not some day noted as almost marking an epoch 
by the historian of what promises to be the method of 
the future. Students will be interested to learn the 
fate of the petition just sent by the Berlin Cremation 
Society to the Pope, wherein not far short of ten 



tEfle %aat <®ititt& of Affection 33 

thousand persons pray for the abolition of the 
Church's official disapproval." 

^ The writer has no desire to express an opinion 
subversive of any custom which time has approved 
as wise and beneficial to the general health and 
welfare. But the assurance that multitudes of intel- 
ligent and reverent people have a growing conviction 
that Earth burial works evil, and that cremation is 
an acceptable and desirable alternative, prompts him 
to give his own views upon the subject in the follow- 
ing lines, written several years ago: 



OBurial in tyz Cioutig 

When Azriel comes to call my soul away, 
Lay not my breathless form in some dark cell 

Alone — alone with worms and foul decay ; 
At such unkindness would my shade rebel. 

No spells to haunt my friends should fancy weave, 
Lest I might wake and struggle to be free ; 

Nor would I scourge a world 1 love and leave, 
With noxious taint in earth, or air, or sea. 



34 ®f)e Hast <&iiitt& of gHectton 

But let me melt into a filmy cloud, 

And touch with gold the amber morning sky ; 

Or, veiled in mist, with driving storm enshroud 
Both land and tossing main, as on I fly. 

Then wrap about my frame a robe of fire, 
And let it rise as incense, censer swung, 

Until, in ether pure, it may aspire 

To greet the stars along the azure flung. 

And to some grassy knoll, my ashes bring, 
For kindred hands upon the lawn to strew, 

Where song-birds love to male and nest and sing, 
And early sunshine comes to drink the dew. 

And when from cloud-land fall the grateful showers, 
To bless some future, happy summer's day, 

Believe that I am come to wake the flowers 
To bloom, and thus my debt to earth repay. 



AUG 7 1805 






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